


cuffed

by brorotica



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Reality, Anal Sex, Handcuffs, Light Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex, Pre-Canon, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-20
Updated: 2012-06-20
Packaged: 2017-11-08 03:55:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/438867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brorotica/pseuds/brorotica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the summer of 1997, small-town cop Victor pulls Dean over for speeding on a back road. Dean puts his natural talents to good use to get Victor to let him off easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cuffed

**Author's Note:**

> Pre-series. Anal sex, oral sex, handcuffs, public- albeit lonely public- sex. Unbeta'd, so any mistakes are my own.

So this is bullshit.

Dean Winchester has been the sort of guy who manages to evade cops at every twist and turn, so finding himself pinned up against the side of a cruiser on some backwater country road, the cold metal of a pair of handcuffs digging into his way-too-sensitive skin. It's the middle of summer, hot and humid in that horrible way only Texas gets, and off somewhere in the distance there's the faint rumble of thunder, coming from the hill country. Sam is at home in the hotel room and Dean- eighteen years old and trying to get back from a barn burner- is being arrested for drug possession, of all things.

It's 1997.

Weed isn't like fucking cocaine or anything, but here he is, a Rambo wannabe holding him by the chain in between the handcuffs. The cop turns Dean around, pushing him against the hood of the car, and Dean finds himself finally getting a good look at the man's face, illuminated by the full moon and some faint flashes of lightning in the distance. He's handsome, black and dark-eyed with one hell of a facial structure and a body clearly built by years of training for this job. He can't be more than five or so years older than Dean, though, and while the uniform he's wearing suits him better than all get out, he doesn't look like he's been wearing it long.

Especially if he's been delegated to patrolling back roads a hundred miles outside Tyler, Texas. The police force in the nearest city is only about five guys, and for Officer Henriksen- the nametag on his chest is barely visible in the moonlight- to be stuck out here... he's either being punished or seriously low down on the totem pole. Dean smiles at the cop, cocking an eyebrow. He's still a little high, maybe, and feeling a little bold. This guy won't take him to jail. He's just trying to scare him. "Hey, there."

"Hi," Henriksen says.

"You got a first name?"

"Tell me yours, first." Dean is suddenly glad he left his wallet in the hotel room. He's got an ID on him, a fake one, and he struggles with remembering what name he has on it before his grin broadens a little.

"Eddie," he finally says, licking his lips. "Eddie Richards."

"Huh. You got ID to back that up?"

"It's in my pocket," Dean murmurs, looking at the cop with half-closed lids. He's pretty good at seduction, but men have never been his forte. Sex with them has usually been for money, not for pleasure, but Henriksen is hot and rather handsy and Dean figures he can get a little bit of action from him if he wheedles enough. "My back pocket. Now you gotta tell me your name."

"Victor," the cop says, sliding his hand in Dean's back pocket and pulling out the ID. He doesn't seem the least bit affected. "It says you're twenty-three."

Oh, right. Dean had forgotten that part. He nods, leaning against the hood of the car. "That's me."

Victor looks unimpressed, leaning in slightly. Dean can smell his slightly minty breath, feel it against his lips, and he manages to bite back a groan. "You don't look that old."

"Officer, I swear I am."

"Really?" Oh, holy fuck. Dean glances at Victor, who's watching him calmly, still seemingly unfazed by all of this, but there's a glint of something darker in his eyes. "I've seen a lot of fake IDs before."

"You can't have seen that many. There's only like five hundred people in that town." Dean attempts to slip his cuffs, intent on managing to get out of them and immediately freezing when Victor grabs one of his wrists. Dean hisses. Victor has a tight grasp, almost painful, and it's the first time Dean's gotten this close to a cop, much less one who is apparently intent on taking him... well, not downtown, since there doesn't seem to be one. "Come on, I'm not doing anything wrong."

"You smell like drugs and you were swerving."

"I was listening to music. I don't remember that being illegal."

"I don't remember Styx making you stink like marijuana."

"Look," Dean says, sighing. "I have a baby brother at home and if I don't get home soon my dad is literally going to kill me."

"When he does, give me a call. Until then, we're going."

Dean simply cannot be arrested. There's no fucking way he's going to allow this to happen, not now and not ever, and he looks around desperately before pushing himself forward a little, pressing himself against Victor. "I'll suck your cock."

The look of surprise on Victor's face nearly makes Dean feel like a winner but he has more important things to think about than breaking the bearing of this cop. Mostly getting out of this cop's grasp and back home to Sam. "Excuse me?"

"I am an expert cocksucker. I'm like... one of those fish that lives in sharks' mouths."

The corners of Victor's lips twitch a little, like he's trying not to smile. "That isn't sexy."

"But I am, right? And I swear that if you are looking for someone to suck you off, I am that someone."

"Jesus Christ, man. You're joking, right? I didn't pull you over in the hopes you'd go down on me."

Dean drops to his knees, hands still cuffed behind his back, and he looks up at Victor, attempting to look as sultry as he possibly can in the moonlight. Apparently it isn't as sexy as pornos make it seem, and he isn't exactly at an advantage right now. His balance is seriously unsteady at the moment. "Look, no one's got to know. And if you don't like dudes, you can just close your eyes and we can pretend or something. I can maybe make my voice go a little higher. I've never tried it with a dick in my mouth but I'm willing to learn. I've just got to get back to Sam tonight."

"You being a man isn't the problem." Well, that was a plus. "You being a man I just pulled over for being high is the problem." That really wasn't a plus. Dean frowned slightly. "Look, you're pretty good-looking but I can't do this. I could lose my job."

"Who the hell is going to know? I'm going to be out of this town in like three days, man, and your dashcam can't see us here."

"My dashcam isn't on," Victor says, glancing at the front of his cop car, and Dean licks his lips. "Still, though..."

"My lips are sealed. I mean, after you've gotten off they'll be sealed. Not right this second."

"That's kind of clear."

"So what do you say?" Dean parts his lips, tilting his head back slightly. "Come on. It's not going to hurt anyone."

Victor glances down the road both ways before sighing, taking a step forward and running his hand back through Dean's hair slowly. It's a clear yes and Dean leans forward, pressing his mouth against Victor's inner thigh and keeping his eyes on the other man's face. This feels kind of insanely kinky- handcuffed and pressed against the side of a cop car- and Victor slides his thumb along Dean's temple before reaching down with his other hand and undoing his fly. It's clear from his expression that he's finding this just as kinky as Dean is, although his eyes keep flitting back and forth a little nervously. Dean intends to make Victor focus on him, or at least quit freaking out about being caught.

He can feel Victor's cock straining against the front of his uniform slacks and he tilts his head back, jangling the handcuffs slightly. "I can't suck your cock if you don't help me out a little, officer."

Victor smirks and slides his pants down a little. "I'm afraid I can't help you out a hell of a lot more. You're supposed to be doing me the favour, you know."

Dean tries not to smile, trailing his tongue along the bulge in Victor's boxers slowly before leaning up as far as he can and dragging his teeth along the exposed line of the other man's abdomen. Victor tastes kind of musky but smells like cologne, and Dean kind of likes it, managing to snag the elastic waistband of Victor's underwear in his mouth and tugging them down. It's hard work but eventually Victor's cock, hard and thick, is exposed, precome gathering at the tip and the vein on the underside throbbing.

Dean drags his tongue down along the shaft, stopping at Victor's balls. He takes the left one into his mouth, running his tongue along it slowly and sucking gently. He wants Victor as hard as he can fucking get, wants him ready to fucking explode, and he pulls away after a moment before taking the other one into his mouth. He gives it the same treatment as the other one, hearing the way Victor's breathing picks up and feeling the change in his cock before he tugs back, nudging against his dick slightly.

His own cock is hard, his jeans more constraining than they've ever fucking been, but Dean can deal with it if it means he can make Victor come- in a relatively timely fashion. Teasing, Dean drags his tongue back up to the tip of Victor's cock, wrapping his lips around the very crown of his dick and sucking slowly. The noise Victor makes tells Dean exactly how well he's doing, something between a strangled moan and half-bitten off cry, and Dean keeps up his ministrations for a few moments before pushing himself down further.

Victor's grasp in Dean's hair tightens and Dean knows that he isn't going to last very long. Small-town Texas cop patrolling a back road probably doesn't have a hell of a lot of time for people going down on him, and it's clear that Victor hasn't had anything other than his hand in a while- not that Dean has, either. He lies about sex a hell of a lot but doesn't have it all too often. Things are hard when you're making your way up and down America every few weeks, and even with his eyes and his face and his words he doesn't do a very good job at seducing people.

Victor, though... Victor needs this just as much as Dean needs to get home to Sam, and Dean is very good at providing, at least in a limited way. He pulls back off Victor's cock- wet and dripping with spit, slick halfway down with a trail along the base and his balls- and looks up at him. The moon is high overhead now but the thunder is closer. Dean counts between the lightning and the noise- it isn't very far off. They don't have too much time.

"There's lube in my car," he says, and Victor- dazed and confused and looking down at Dean like he's speaking another language- hastily stuffs his cock back in his jeans and walks over to the Impala.

"Where?" he asks, and Dean licks his lips. He can taste the other man on them.

"In the glovebox." It's trust, a stupid sort of trust, because if Victor digs under the seat or opens the trunk or uses Dean in order to search his vehicle without a warrant, Dean is going away for a while. Victor emerges with the lube, though, and he drags Dean to his feet, pulling him closer and letting his mouth graze along Dean's lips.

Dean leans into the half-kiss instinctively and Victor smiles against his mouth in a way that Dean kind of seriously fucking loves. "Shit," he hisses, low and throaty and needy, and Victor shoves him down against the hood of the cop car. Dean wriggles backwards until his ass is firmly planted on the metal and Victor undoes his pants, yanking them down and letting his fingers ghost over the bulge in the front of his briefs.

Dean's hands are pinned beneath him, the handcuffs brutally unforgiving and entirely painful but it adds something to the whole thing, some dark little thing that Dean's never really had before. He'll be bruised in the morning and Sam will ask and Dean won't be able to answer but it'll be fantastic, a memory no one but him and Victor will ever need to know about in a million years.

Victor tugs Dean's briefs off and leans down, capturing his mouth in a rough kiss, and Dean wonders if Victor can taste his own cock on Dean's red lips, his mouth swollen and bright from the cocksucking and now the feeling of this man's lips against his own. Victor's hands wander along Dean's body, touch his chest through his shirt and run over his stomach before pausing at his legs. He drags his fingers along Dean's ass, tugs him forward to the edge of the car and grasps his upper thighs, squeezing hard. More bruises for the morning but Dean doesn't care, his tongue running along Victor's lower lip, sliding along his tongue, trying to pull him closer and get him to go deeper.

Lube-slicked fingers are being pressed against Dean's asshole after a moment and the teenager drops his head back, breaths coming in short gasps. "Just fuck me, man. I can take it."

"I know that," Victor says lowly, and it's clear who's in control of the situation as he pushes two fingers into Dean, who groans and lets his head fall back against the hood. There's the slow ache and the burn in his thighs but his cock gives an unwieldy throb and he knows that this is going to be fucking great, Victor twisting his fingers slowly and bending them a little. He barely touches that bundle of nerves inside Dean but holy hell, is it good, Dean arching off the hood and groaning in the back of his throat.

This is way too good to actually be happening.

He isn't sure how they progressed from cocksucking to this- his mind is foggy and a little distracted- but god, is he fucking glad they made the jump. "Come on," Dean murmurs, and Victor presses a third finger into the splayed-leg teen on the car in front of him, spreading Dean wide open. He starts to fuck him slowly, the pace agonizing and not nearly enough, but Victor knows it and Dean doesn't complain for fear that Victor will cut it off completely.

He doesn't think he could deal with that.

His cock is totally unattended and there's nothing he can do, no way he can touch himself, and all he has right now to get him off is the sort of crackling electricity in the air, the beginnings of the storm he can see out of his peripheral. Victor won't touch him, Dean knows that much, and he's never come without someone else jacking him off, but he's definitely willing to give it a goddamn try. Victor fucks him open for a few more moments, fingers finally sliding out, and Dean groans, shuddering and letting his legs fall open further.

Victor slicks up his cock with the lube, tossing the nearly-empty tube onto the ground beside the Impala and making sure his dick is nice and coated with the stuff before dragging Dean back forward, the top of his cock pressing against his ass. Dean can feel it, thick and so fucking ready, and he looks up at Victor almost pleadingly, although he manages to keep his mouth shut. He isn't going to give Victor any more reason to fuck him harder. "You ready?" Victor asks, and Dean barely has time to give a brief nod before Victor slams into him, the full length of his dick spreading Dean apart.

Dean cries out and his voice sounds inhumanly loud in the stillness of the night but Victor doesn't silence him. Clearly he's taken his mind off the fact that they might be discovered, and Dean supposes he should be happy that he reached his goal, but it doesn't seem as important now that he has this guy buried balls deep in his ass.

"Fuck," Dean hisses, squeezing his eyes shut, and Victor smacks his thigh, not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to make Dean feel admonished.

"Open your eyes," Victor says in that low, calm voice of his, and Dean does as he's told, staring up at Victor through the moonlit night. So this is definitely feeling more porn-ish, what with Victor starting to fuck him, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in hard and oh-so-fucking fast. Dean wants him to fuck him as hard as he can and Victor starts up slow and deep, every thrust hitting that spot inside him and sending pleasure jolting up his spine.

Dean's cock is throbbing and he can feel the precome dripping onto his stomach, Victor's fingers digging into his thighs as he fucks him open. Dean is vaguely aware that they should have maybe used protection, especially since wandering into the hotel room with another man's come dripping out of his asshole is not Dean's idea of a good time, but it should be fucking all right, maybe. He hopes so. "You're clean, right?" he asks, and it sounds so bizarre that for a moment Victor freezes.

"What?"

"You're clean?"

"Yeah. You?"

Dean nods and Victor stares at him for a moment before grinning slightly. "You're fucking bizarre, Eddie."

"Sorry." Victor shrugs and strikes up the pace again but now it feels like punishment. He fucks him hard and fast and when Dean feels like he's about to come, tensing up and nearing the edge, he slacks off, thrusting deeper but slower, his fingers barely brushing the sensitive tip of his cock. Dean doesn't think he's going to last much longer when Victor lets out a string of curses and Dean feels heat explode in his stomach, his back arching off the hood of the car as Victor comes deep inside him.

Victor pulls out but wraps his fist around Dean, jacking him off slowly and surely until Dean's come is staining Victor's fingers. Victor haphazardly wipes his hand on Dean's jeans, which Dean kind of resents, and tugs him off the cruiser. He kisses him slowly on the mouth and Dean kisses back, eyes slipping shut this time. He's tired and no longer high and feels kind of fucking gross, come dripping down his leg, but when he pulls back the handcuffs are off.

Victor grins, close enough that Dean can still smell that mint gum on his breath. "I guess you can go."

"A man of his word, huh?"

"I got a feeling we'll be running into each other again," Victor says, straightening his uniform, and Dean kisses him one more time before Victor climbs in his cruiser and drives off.

Dean watches until his headlights are pinpricks on the horizon and the rain is coming down in droves.


End file.
